Bonds
by Caitriona3
Summary: Slavery is nothing new to Darcy even if she is the youngest of her new companions. She's got experience to equal their years, but even she is going to be surprised at what is coming their way. Alternate universe fic - Slavery fic - Rating may be too high, but I want to be safe as there may be some graphic stuff in later chapters.


_Author's Note - The rating may be too high, but considering the topic and its potential, I wanted to be safe. Yes, I know, another story. The main benefit is that I have most of them all outlined out now, and I'm trying to give myself a variety to help offset the months' long writer's block from happening again. So if my brain starts insisting on writing something, I do it. I post it so I have you to keep me motivated to write._

**On the Road to Market**

Darcy rolled her eyes as the cart seemed determined to hit every possible bump in the road. A passing rider spat at the driver for going so slow, but the man ignored him and kept plodding along. She closed her eyes and tried to let the noise wash over her, wanting to sleep before getting to the city. Her companions on this lovely little journey did not feel the same.

"Apparently I'm volatile and don't play well with others." This random announcement came from a young dark haired male in the opposite corner. Darcy glanced at him and raised her eyebrows. He smiled wanly. "It's why I'm here."

She just shrugged, but the other male, still young, but this one a big blond, spoke up. "Truly? I lost my place due to my size. The mistress grew fearful though I have never threatened harm to any woman." He looked across the cart to Darcy and the other female, a tall red-head. "And you?"

The red-head blinked once as she apparently considered ignoring the question before informing him in a cool tone, "My family required the funds. I am the youngest and provided least for my family."

Everyone turned to Darcy. "What?" she asked shortly, scowling at them.

"How did you come to join this company?" asked the blond male. "We have offered our reasons."

"Wasn't planning on contributing," she told him. He gave her a confused look and she sighed. "Oh, good gods, I'm here because I refused to share the firstborn's bed and fought him off."

"This is a possibility?" the red-head asked. "Being required to share their beds?"

Darcy slanted a look at her. The redhead was older than her, but apparently a lot more sheltered. "I feel old. You are new to this, aren't you?" She gave a disdainful sniff before turning to face her more directly. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but a slave can be given any command. Punishment for disobedience is up to the master." One shoulder lifted in resignation. "At least I'm only being resold. It's better than most punishments." Her nose scrunched lightly. "I'm pretty sure the mistress kept it mild."

"Why would she do that?" the other woman asked.

"Because her son's got a nasty temper and she knows it," Darcy replied, closing her eyes. "One more death in their house, even of a slave, and the law will snatch him away. She can't let that happen, so instead of usual punishments, off I go to the market."

"'Usual' punishments?" the big blond asked, a frown settling on his face.

"Sure," she shrugged. "It all depends on what he's in the mood for – blood, sex, terror, all of the above." Her eyes grew dark for a moment. "Slaves only have as many legal rights as their masters allow them. You have to know that." Then she glanced at the redhead. "Except maybe for her…she's new."

"I was being trained as a gladiator for the arena," he explained.

Darcy frowned. "And they sold you for getting too big? Isn't that what a gladiator is supposed to do?"

He shrugged before offering her a smile. "I am called Thor."

"Tony," the dark haired male offered before looking back at her. "You fought and apparently injured their son and all they're doing is selling you?"

"If they let him kill me, it would be the fifth death in a month," she replied straightforwardly. "Even the most corrupt local lawman is going to have a hard time swallowing that one. Five in a year? Sure. Five in a month? No way." She yawned and caved to the inquiring look from Thor. "Darcy."

"Natasha," the red-head introduced herself. Her eyes narrowed. "What is the market going to be like?"

"Noisy, smelly, and crowded," Darcy replied.

"Smelly?" Tony tilted his head in question.

Darcy shrugged. "Lots of different kinds of slaves," she explained. "Field workers, miners, and galley slaves…people nobody really worry about keeping clean. As long as they look strong and healthy, who cares if they're dirty or not?" She ran an experienced eye over her three companions. "You," she pointed at Thor, "have got a pretty good shot at being snapped up by someone wanting to break into the Games." Then she spread her hands in a helpless kind of gesture. "I don't know about you two," she told the others. "Got any skills?"

"Give me stuff and a place to work and I can build anything," Tony replied first. Darcy lifted an eyebrow at him. "I'm serious," he insisted. "I created all kinds of useful things for the family."

"But they sold you?" Natasha asked.

"Well," he hedged a little before a mischievous smile crept over his face. "I might have burned down a couple of workshops before I got something to work the first time. Then their son decided he could build stuff and it wasn't as good as mine. I tried to tell him where he was going wrong, but he didn't listen and he blew his workshop up. I told him that was a bad mixture."

"Great," Darcy sighed. "Try to swallow the ego when people are looking at you."

"Why?" Thor's eyebrows lifted in curiosity.

"Not you," she told him. "Gladiators are supposed to have egos. Other slaves have to balance them. If you don't get bought, they send you out to the salt mines. People don't make it long in them."

"What else should we do?"

Natasha's question made Darcy think for a moment. "Stay back and stay quiet," she told them. "Get the feel of the place first. Don't jump to show off for just anyone. You don't want to sell too fast."

"Why not?" Tony demanded.

"Too fast means a lower price," she explained. "Lower prices mean less worth. It's a balancing thing. The best time for selling is midmorning or early afternoon. Midmorning means the new owners have been doing some definite considering as they walk through; it means they consider the purchase of decent to good worth."

"So?" he asked, still confused.

"Were you raised in that household?" She rolled her eyes. All three of her companions were older than her, but none of them seemed to have a pinch of her experience. "The more you are worth, the better care and privileges you get. Sell too cheap, and you get treated the same way. Your placement is going to match your price."

Thor spoke up before the other man could speak again. "Why early afternoon?"

"That usually means they've been haggling or talking over the noon meal. It's another good sign of worth, even better than midmorning. So, about an hour before, you want to start really showing off any skills you can. But," she looked at Tony, "keep a rein on both your ego and your mouth."

Natasha shifted, focusing even more intently on Darcy's face. "I am a trained assassin. How do I promote that?"

"Oh, well that's going to be a tough one." Darcy pursed her lips. "Let me think about it." She considered the question for a long moment. "Watch the buyers," she finally said. "Listen to what they're asking or saying. People come to the market looking for all sorts. You'll probably hear someone who is looking for your type of work. That's when you can call out, drawing his or her attention to you. Use a good, but not your best skill as a draw. If they decide to talk to you, dribble out some more about skills, sticking to small and medium level abilities. They'll have to think about it. You might be able to get a couple into a bidding war. That would be your best bet overall.

A loud banging on the side of the wagon broke up the conversation. "Wake up, you lot! Market just ahead!"

"Now the fun begins," Darcy grumbled sarcastically. Her eyes cut over to Natasha, the other woman's inexperience prodding at her conscience. "They're going to poke and prod when they're looking. Try not to kill anyone." The red-head stilled and Darcy shook her head. Moving to crouch directly in front of the other girl, Darcy clasped her shoulders and gave a small shake. "Stay calm. Go cold. Hide yourself somewhere in your mind. Whatever you have to do. Just don't react."

Natasha gave a slow nod, something dark and desperate flickering in the depths of her eyes. "No man has ever-" Her voice broke off and she took a deep breath. "I haven't… I have never…"

"Damn," Darcy grimaced. "Assassins don't ever have to seduce?" She lifted one of her hands. "Don't answer that." Reaching out with her free hand, she brushed back Natasha's hair. She looked around, meeting the eyes of both of the men as well. "Damn, damn, damn," she muttered, shoulders slumping for a moment. "I am not a babysitter." A long, low sigh hissed between her lips. "Okay, look, just stick with me, alright? Follow my lead and let me see what I can do."

The wagon jostled to a stop and the rear hatch opened only moments later. "Out!" ordered the overseer. "Time for market!"


End file.
